


I Didn't Actually Mean That: A Tony Stark Story

by dramatisecho



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers as family, Because I'm a sucker for a happy/fun ending, Dad!Tony, Drunk Tony, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Heavy Drinking, I love her too much to kill her, May is in a coma, Not infinity war compatible, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post Infinity War, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Superfamily (Marvel), Team as Family, There will likely be an epilogue, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Has A Heart, but don’t worry, but not dead, he will fix it eventually, hinted relationship, mean tony, this was written before that film came out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramatisecho/pseuds/dramatisecho
Summary: Tony reverts back to bad habits for one night, resulting in a terrible rift between he and Peter (aka drunk asshole!Tony makes an appearance). It's entirely his fault, and he knows it's up to him to make things right - and save whatever shred of the last good relationship in his life still exists. He hopes Peter can forgive him...





	1. Old Habits

 

 

It had been a rough few years.

Understatement of the century...

 

The near world-ending wrath that Thanos had brought upon the people of Earth had resulted in one saving grace: Collaboration.  
  
  
Forgiveness.  
  
  
The Avengers had re-assembled, paired side by side with the Galaxy's mightiest heroes, as well as any other individual on earth who had the strength (and bravery) to help stop a powerful being who was hell-bent on their destruction. And by some miracle... they had actually _won_. But the victory was not without it's consequences and casualties; it's losses, on both sides.

  
While the remaining heroes and civilians began to take head-counts, and look for loved ones in their respective (slightly more mangled) cities – Tony found himself in, yet another, life changing predicament.

  
Of course he had arranged for the people he cared for (Pepper, Happy, etc) to be in the safest place possible, alongside those family and friends related to his teammates. A reinforced bunker with all the fixings had seemed like the most logical choice when the world was coming to an end. But the bunker hadn't exactly been tested against more powerful, “bejeweled” galactic beings – and as a result, more than half the bunker had been destroyed in the chaos. And with it, multiple causalities.

  
Luck had been on Tony's side (which seemed to happen more often than not; more than he deserved, he'd be the first to admit), since Pepper and Happy were relatively unscathed aside from a broken bone or two, and a few contusions. But May Parker had not been so lucky. Fishing her out of the rubble had been a horrifying experience - amplified by _twenty_ \- since there was a distraught teenager by his side watching it all unfold as they pulled her out.

  
Peter had been borderline hysterical with worry (and rightly so), and inconsolable with the fear that he'd lose yet _another_ family member. Natasha had been quick to prick him with a strong sedative, so that the healers and doctors on site could work uninterrupted. Tony had immediately taken the unconscious sixteen-year-old into his arms, and carried him back toward the half standing Avengers compound. May, and the others who were being treated, were all rushed over so their recovery could begin. Tony could only thank his foresight in designing a number of medical-bays within the compound, since the underground labs and equipment there had all managed to survive the attack.

  
It was pretty touch and go around the clock. For days. More and more heroes stopped in – mutants, humans, and enhanced superhumans alike; all bearing loved ones, or simply there to ask how they could help.

  
Tony would have been touched by the show of camaraderie if he hadn't been so invested in Peter's well being. The kid had been angry after waking up, still woozy from the drug on Day 2. But after a pep talk from Cap and Tony, he'd reluctantly understood why calming him down had been necessary. But it didn't make things better. Especially not when (even _after_ being worked on by multiple doctors and a few talented mutant-healers), May remained unconscious. Tony and Peter had been reassured by those who'd helped keep the woman alive that she _was_ , in fact, _alive_. But with the extent of her injuries and the trauma sustained... remaining in a coma would be the best thing for her.

 

So... life continued. Humans and heroes worked together to rebuild what was destroyed, and clean up the aftermath. Funerals were held, memorials were raised, and everyone tried to remember what a 'normal' life looked like.

  
Peter hadn't returned to school. He'd kept himself busy helping rebuild and regroup areas of the city that needed it. Tony had followed along. Some part of his brain had immediately rewired itself into thinking that he was now this kid's guardian. He'd dragged Peter into this, and as a result, was directly responsible for the situation he was now in. Cap and the others had each taken turns talking to him; reassuring Tony it wasn't his fault, and given the sheer scope of the threat and all-hands-on-deck mentality... that Peter would have been dragged into the battle with or without Tony's say so. And if he hadn't ensured May and their other loved-ones were as secure as possible in that bunker, "that spitfire hottie from Queens might be dead, instead of in a coma." (Well put, Clint.)

  
It sounded so simple laid out like that. But Tony wasn't interested in making _himself_ feel better about everything that had happened. He wanted _Peter_ to feel better. He wanted back the kid who had that boundless energy; who would talk your ear off, give you earnest smiles, and tease you with that sheepish-but-sharp wit of his.

  
“War changes people, Tony.” Rhodey had reminded him one day. They all knew it. Tony just hadn't wanted Peter to know it. Not yet. Not until he was older.

  
By the time Peter was about to turn seventeen, the world had slowly started turning again. Most of the rebuilding and recovery had been completed; businesses, schools, and civilians were all getting back to the routines that they'd had before. People were kinder and more tolerant; the efforts of heroes and mutants to save their world did not go unnoticed, and – dare he think it – the world was kind of turning into a better place. All it had taken was a massive, galactic threat.

  
...Go figure.

  
Tony had Tower#1 rebuilt and refinished in the city, and had been quick to move he and Peter in. He'd secured May her own wing in the tower, where she was monitored by the best doctors and equipment around. The team (much to his surprise) had also followed, claiming their own floors in the structure, and giving solid efforts into making the best out of it.  
  
  
He watched as Peter gradually began to come out of his shell again. The team adored him (as he knew they would), and treated him like the nephew, the brother, the son, they'd never had. Peter would spend time in the lab with Bruce, or play video-games with Clint and Sam. He'd train and work-out with Nat and Cap, or sometimes help Vision with his cooking. Peter would visit May's room at least once a day... maybe more if he was having a rough time... and spent his time reading to her, or catching her up on what was going on in the world, and in his life.

  
All-in-all, he seemed to be adjusting well.

  
But it was his relationship with Tony that changed the most.

 

 

The billionaire hadn't really noticed it at first...

  
He and Peter spent a lot of time together. They didn't have separate floors like the rest of the team, but instead opted to share the same one. They had all their meals together (whether they were in the kitchen or Tony's workshop seemed to fluctuate from week to week), they watched movies, played video-games, worked on their little projects or suit-upgrades. Peter was the last person he saw before he went to bed, and the first person he saw in the morning.

  
It was shockingly domestic and (if Tony were being honest) something he'd always wanted. A family. Or at least, his own version of a family.

  
The first time he'd really expressed his feelings toward the kid had been just after the celebration of Peter's 17 th  birthday. It had been a blast doing all the things Peter loved to do, only this time, the team and Tony were right there with him; acting childish, letting loose, and really making it 'one to remember' for him, given the events of the past year. When everyone had finally called it a night, and Tony and Peter were heading to bed, Peter had pulled Tony in for one of the biggest (and strongest) hugs he'd ever gotten.

  
Tony allowed himself the indulgence, and hugged him back. The kid had muttered a “Thanks, Tony...” into his shoulder, and pulled back with a watery smile.

  
The billionaire had smiled back, patting Peter on the cheek fondly, before reaching up to tousle his hair affectionately, “Don't mention it.” He'd nudged Peter toward his bed as he turned to make his way out of the room, “Now go get some sleep, kiddo. Love you.”

  
It had been said so casually, and come from such a natural place that Tony had to applaud himself for not stumbling in his step, or freezing right there on the spot. Peter was silent too. And Tony found himself nearly on the cusp of a category-5 nervous breakdown as he reached the door.... only to have it subdued as Peter answered back, “Love you too. Thanks...” before Tony was out the room and out of sight.

  
  
The small gestures of affection increased bit by bit, growing casual and almost unconscious in the midst of their day-to-day routines. Mornings began with fond hair-tousling on Tony's behalf, or Peter leaning his sleepy weight against Tony's sturdier form while they waited for the coffee to brew. There was playful shoving and a bit of rough-housing in the afternoons when they were at their best. There were pats on the back and more hair-tousling if they parted ways for the day. And at night, there was always a hug.

  
They both began sleeping better (nightmares rolling out to be only an occasional occurrence by this point), and Tony even began slipping in the occasional 'my kid' or 'my son' phrases when talking about Peter (or with Peter) to the rest of the team. The small wry smiles of the others always alerting him to the fact that he'd let one slip. He'd tried to hold back at first, but the closer he and Peter got – the more Tony was actually _proud_ to be able to call him by those kinds of endearments and get away with it.

  
But _none_ of those things seemed to drive their new relationship home like the first time Peter called him 'Dad' did...

 

Clint, Sam, Bucky and Cap had offered to take Peter along with them on a 'team-building' exercise that somehow involved paintball. Tony didn't particularly see the fun in running around the woods in hot, sweaty gear shooting hard pellets at each other... but Peter seemed eager to take part. Steve had already cleared it with Tony, but (never being one to miss an opportunity to tease the kid) Tony had reserved the right to give Pete the news himself that he was 'allowed' to join in the fun. In the meantime, Peter thought it necessary to “casually” drop in the paint-balling venture whenever possible; complete with wistful sighs, longing looks, and awkward fumbling conversations about the merits of being able to 'shoot' accurately, even though he was Spider-Man and against fire arms in a more general sense.

  
The morning of the team retreat, Peter had shuffled out looking adorably sleepy and a bit ruffled. Tony had been up for an hour, coffee brewed and ready, innocently reading the newspaper as he spared the teen a quick glance.

  
“You're lookin' a little worse for wear there, kiddo. Though you would've been up sooner.” he said, sipping on his coffee as Peter wandered over to the counter.

  
He yawned in response, stretching and muttering something about a late-night Skype call with Ned. Tony huffed, “Well. You've got about- ...” he made a show of looking at his watch, “An hour before Cap n' Friends storm the tower to pick you up.”

  
Peter froze, turning around and lowering the cup he was about to sip out of to stare at Tony with child-like wonder, “....What?” he whispered, as if daring to believe he'd heard what he did.

  
“Uh, paintball? ...Bunch of weirdos running around in the woods? Fluffy _team_ -building that I want no part of but you do? Ringing any bells there, buttercup?” he teased, still reading his newspaper as if none of this was news to him.

  
“I can go!? Really?!” Peter exclaimed, bouncing back and forth while the coffee in his cup began to slosh out and spatter onto the floor below.

  
Tony reached out and pried it from his hands, “Yeah kid. You can go. Go shower, and comb that nest on top of your head. Happy's bringing breakfast. Should be here by the time you're out.”

  
Peter made a series of panicked and excited notices before scrambling out of the kitchen, “This is AWESOME! Thanks dad, t-thank you- _thank_ you!” he shouted on exit.

  
Tony sat there in silence for a minute or two, before he set Peter's mug down and grabbed a cloth to wipe up the coffee spills on the floor. He wondered if the kid had even realized he'd said it...

  
By the time Peter was heading back into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed, Happy had already arrived and the food was being devoured. His head of security was giving him a rundown of his day, along with any messages from Pepper, when the kid finally slipped back in. He sat in the chair beside Tony and loaded up his plate, casting sheepish glances every so often in the genius' direction – as if trying to gauge whether or not Tony had a problem with Pete calling him- .... well... _that_ word.

  
Tony, in true fashion, had simply patted Peter on the back, rubbing his shoulder in silent greeting, before answering Happy with some quip about his company and Pepper's sound handling of it. The gesture did what he'd hoped it would, and reassured the kid enough so he could launch into his usual chatter-box-default-mode. He began telling Happy all about his plans to go paint-balling with half the team between bites, before Tony swatted at him with a napkin and told him not to talk with his mouth full.

  
Steve and the rest of the motley crew showed up to pick up Peter, and attempted to goad Tony into coming along himself. But duty called and he had a number of upgrades and fixes scheduled today – along with a meeting or two that Pepper had insisted on (under penalty of death). So he'd wished them luck, and sent them on their way.

  
All in all, things were going pretty well.

 

Until they weren't.

 

He should have seen it coming. All those self-destructive tendencies and habits didn't just _disappear_ because he found some will to try and be a bit more responsible – both for his teammates, and the kid he was now semi-raising... housing... looking out for. Whatever it was.

  
The Accords had dissolved after Thanos' little visit, and Tony (along with all the other heroes) had been absolved of any damages... what with the whole 'saving the world' and helping rebuild it afterward. However, in lieu of them, a Registration Act was now up for debate. The U.N would have no active involvement, nor complete access to the Register files, but would be able to request aid in the event of a crisis, if the need arose. In fact, the only ones with access would be the Illuminati.

  
Which wasn't their 'official' name, but Tony had thought he was pretty funny coming up with it (it was a name that summed up their little group and their discussions in the meantime). He and Steve had been meeting up with Doctor Strange, Charles Xavier, T'Challa, Vision, and Reed Richards to discuss how to progress with a hypothetical Registration Act: a register or roster database that would give them the ability to call on those enlisted the next time the "shit hit the fan".

  
They had all agreed that more active communication would have come in handy when Thanos had first raised hell – more damage and casualties could have been avoided if there had been a way to call together and assemble people with special-abilities and mutations more quickly.

  
So far, Xavier and Tony seemed to be the only ones leading the charge for this 'for our eyes only' data-base of superhuman resources and contact info... T'Challa was on the fence, as was Doctor Strange... but Richards and the Cap were still fighting against it: bringing up terrible 'what-if' scenarios and poking holes in all the _good_ having that kind of resource could do. Vision did his best to play mediator, but Tony was beginning to lose his cool over the whole thing. He found himself transported back to when Cap had opposed him the _first_ time around in a here-we-go-again type deja-vu, and his temper had gotten the best of him.

  
Which (after a particularly bad meeting Xavier had defused in that insufferably posh British manner of his) had lead to Tony finding solace in a bottle. Something he hadn't done in years.

  
He got _very_ drunk _very_ quickly in the Tower, and thankfully had enough foresight beforehand to restrict access to his floor from everyone but Peter and himself. FRIDAY had chimed in once or twice to let him know that the Cap had requested to be let up, but Tony ignored her and kept the restriction in place while he got plastered.

 _  
Expensive bottles full of booze?_ Check. _No one around?_ Check. _Crippling cynicism and bleak outlook on the future of the world and his place in it?_ Check.

  
“Ooooooh I'm Captain America...” he mocked to himself before he finished downing the bottle of liquor in hand. “Goly-gee-oh-my-holy-molly I'm- ... I'm... -always with... I like- ....” he lobbed the bottle into the air, listening as it crashed across the room. “Whatever.” he trailed off, already loosing track of his ramblings.

  
He got so lost in the cartoon that was playing on television (some weird space thing, with a grandfather and his ... awkward... grandson?) that he didn't even hear Peter enter the room. He was too focused on cracking open the next bottle, and taking a long healthy swig from it.

  
“...-ark?”

_  
Glug glug glug doooooown the hatch... I wonder if this is what robots feel like when they get oil- ... or... whatever..._

  
“Tony? ... M... -Stark?”

_  
All this stupid... shit... oooooooh I said 'shit'.... do we have a swear jar now? Was that something that happened?..._

  
“Mr. Stark??... Tony? ...Are you- ... er... ok?”

  
Tony blinked and sat up a bit, turning to see Peter. The kid was decked out in his Spider-Man suit, sans the mask. He was clutching it in his hand a bit sheepishly, as he took a few steps forward. Tony noticed the landing-pad door was automatically closing behind him.

  
“Ooooh look... it's... Spider-Man...” he huffed, taking another swig as he stood up unsteadily, “Here to inject some grade-school morals into the... proceedings?...” he gestured loosely around him at the several littered (some broken) bottles.

  
Peter didn't answer. In fact he was being oddly quiet. Tony glanced over to him again as he sauntered toward the kitchen, only to notice that the kid had a weird look on his face; stunned and disappointed and... _worried?..._

  
“What, uh... what are you up to?” Peter hedged politely, looking back toward his mentor with obvious concern.

  
Tony scoffed, “Y'know maybe you should've gone back to school after we saved the world, huh?” he said, his tone a bit shorter than normal. “Bottles everywhere? Intoxicated super-genius? What's one plus the other, kid?”

  
“...Yeah, no, I _get_ it...” Peter answered, following along as Tony began to rummage through the cupboards and drawers for god-knows-what. “I just- ... uh... haven't really seen you drink. Like this. Before. I mean, this is a _lot_ of bottles, Tony. Like, there's at least four. Or five. And that's just, y'know... what I can see here. And I'm pretty sure some people have died from this kind of alcohol consumption. Wait, lemme get my tablet.. I'm like 94% sure there's a "Do It For America" instruction video with the Cap that I watched in school once. It was oddly specific about the details when someon-”

  
“Blah blah Mr. Stark - Hey Mr. Stark - Hey Mr.Stark!” Tony butt in, mimicking a crude imitation of Peter, “Kid, it _astonishes_ me that you believe I'm actually listening to you when you start rambling on like that...” he slammed the fridge door a bit harder than normal as he whirled around toward Peter. The teen had stopped moving all together, frozen as Tony continued, “Y'know, when I had to sign up for the whole 'look-after-a-brat-that-isn't-even-mine' thing, I thought _maybe_... just _maybe_... I'd win some brownie points. Or a medal. Or at least some respect with a dash of admiration. But _instead_ I have you just yammering away 24-7 about whatever enters your brain, and Captain Contrary still undermining me at every turn. Can't you just- ... _ZIP_ it? For five minutes?” he snarled, wandering past Peter and back toward the lounge area. “Go down to the med wing and take lessons from your Aunt. She's doin' pretty well at the whole... silent treatment thing...” he trailed off in a mutter.

  
He set the glass in his hand onto the coffee table, and poured the gin from the bottle he'd been drinking into it. “There? Is that better? Look, I'm using a _glass_ instead of drinking it straight from the bottle. Just like my old man used to...” he mused. The bottle toppled over onto the carpet when he tried to set it back down, but Tony just ignored it. Just like he was ignoring the hurt, quiet look on Peter's face as he stood, stuck in place.

  
“....Tony, I think... you should call it a night.” Peter spoke up softly. He was trying to sound level toned, but the genius caught the slightest stutter on each word.

  
Tony barked out a laugh, “Well, how about I pull a Peter Parker, and say: "Yeah! Sure!"... and agree to what you're asking, before turning around and just doing it anyway.” he snorted into his drink, “Yeah you _looove_ doing that. Why don't we go downstairs, wake up your aunt, and you and she can go back to Queens where you can disobey me all you like? Sound like fun? ... _You_ can drop by to talk my ear off once a week, and _I_ can go back to running my company, saving the world, and making equipment and- ... gadgets for the most stubborn super-heroes on Earth. Oh goody.”

  
He managed to take one more long pull from the glass before it slipped out of his hand, and joined the bottle on the carpet. Suddenly, there was a gentle hand on his arm, and Tony stumbled against someone who was definitely steadier on their feet.

  
“Come on T- ... uh, Mr. Stark....” Peter encouraged gently.

  
Tony couldn't tell you how the kid managed to steer him to his room – where he promptly vomited his guts out in the ensuite bathroom. He was vaguely aware of someone giving him water, and helping him change his shirt before he collapsed into bed.

  
“Hey, um... Friday, can you ask Dr. Banner to come up here?”

 

“Of course, Peter.”

 

“Fridaaaaaay...” Tony slurred from his bed, nearly passed out as his vision grew darker and darker by the second, “Don't let- ... any... Hulks... innnnnto....”

 

He blacked out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize Tony is harsh when he's drunk - but it's a combination of his fears, pressure, and the struggle of dealing with these new emotions and their father-son dynamic. I also figure he'd be a bit more "experienced" when it comes to getting wasted, so he's able to talk well enough to fuck everything up.


	2. The Peter Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I added on a third chapter, because I realized I wasn't going to be able to wrap this up in a two-shot. Will beta/correct this chapter later, I just wanted to get it up for everyone interested :) Thanks for the lovely comments, and I hope the story doesn't disappoint. Bit of a cliff-hanger, so apologies for that as well xx

 

 

When Tony finally returned to the waking world, he promptly threw up into the conveniently placed garbage pail beside his bed.

  
His head was pounding, and it hurt to keep his eyes open for more than two minutes at a time. “Friday...” he muttered into his pillow.

  
“Good morning, boss...” the A.I answered immediately, “Amendment: good afternoon would be more appropriate, given the time.”

  
Tony winced, not interested in his A.I's 'cute' antics, “And what time _is_ it, exactly?”

  
“It is currently 4:02pm.” she replied.

  
The genius groaned, rubbing his face into his pillow. He should pull himself together and at least make an appearance. It wasn't the first time he'd felt like death warmed over (he had a reputation, after all), but it _was_ the first time he'd felt like this in years. Tony had been trying to cut back on all the wild (read: irresponsible) things he used to do, now that he was getting older and had a son to look out for.

 _  
Kid _ , his brain corrected, _A_ _ kid _ _to look out for. He's not technically your son... even though he--_

  
“Alright, alright,” he grumbled to himself, ceasing that train of thought as he tried to get up; redirecting his focus toward trying not to throw up again. He managed to stumble to the bathroom, and throw up once more before having a long shower. Once he felt vaguely normal again, Tony popped some extra-strength painkillers to combat the hangover, and eventually headed out of his room.

  
The penthouse was quiet. There was no sign of Peter, and nothing seemed out of sorts. Frowning to himself, the genius stepped into the elevator and told FRIDAY to take him down to the common floor two levels down. As he stepped off, his eyes immediately settled on Bruce – who was drinking tea at the breakfast bar and reading some kind of scientific journal. He noticed his body relaxed a bit at the sight of the other man... his heart rate slowed, and he took a breath.

  
It was a irrational fear: one day he'd wake up and everyone who occupied the Tower would just be... gone. And he'd have to go back to being that solitary millionaire with no real friends or family to call his own.

  
“Bruce, love of my life... sparkle in my eye... tell me there's coffee.” he said, wandering over to inspect the coffee machine in the kitchen.

  
Bruce smiled gently, “Friday gave me a heads up you were conscious again. Figured I'd get a pot ready.”

  
“You're a blessing. Five stars. Would definitely recommend.” he muttered, pouring himself a cup and taking a grateful sip of that hot black liquid. “What's everyone up to?”

  
“Well... the Cap and Barnes made a trip into the city. Natasha is helping Wanda train in the lower levels. Haven't seen Vision all day, and Clint, Sam and Scott have been continuing their 'Mario Kart' marathon two levels down.” Bruce explained bemusedly, sipping on his tea as he continued to read his journal.

  
Tony frowned, “And Peter? Where's he?”

  
“Couldn't say. Haven't seen him.” Bruce murmured, clearly distracted by his article as he jotted some scribbled notes into the margin.

  
“Friday, where's Peter?” Tony asked as that familiar coil of uncertainty began to drift through him.

  
The A.I. was calm as ever as she replied: “Peter inquired earlier as to whether Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes would permit him to accompany them into the city. I believe they have taken him along.”

  
“Seriously?” Tony whined half-heartedly as he pulled out his mobile, “I'm missing a field-trip?”

  
Bruce huffed, “You practically missed the _whole_ day, nevermind a trip. What happened, anyway?” the scientist looked up from his journal, concern showing on his face, “Haven't known you to go on a bender like that in a while.”

  
“Yeah...” Tony sighed, looking resigned and tired about the whole thing, “It was stupid. A mistake, really. Things haven't been going well with the Illuminati--”

  
“You should really stop calling them that,” Bruce interjected fondly with a roll of his eyes,

  
But Tony continued, “And I was... stressed, to say the least. Didn't handle it well. But it won't happen again! Promise. Pinky swear. I hate feeling like this, anyway.” he admitted, taking another drink of coffee to fight off his rolling stomach and throbbing head. “At least I didn't break anything.”

  
“Except half a dozen bottles in your sitting room.”

  
That made him pause. “Really?... I didn't see anything when I left to come down here.”

  
“Peter probably cleaned it up after he called me upstairs to check on you,” Bruce shrugged, already looking back at his journal.

  
_Peter._.. Tony vaguely remembered interacting with him last night. Or did he? Any possible recollection of their conversations were gone, but he swore he could recall the kid helping him stumble back to his room. His shirt had changed too, and he was sure Peter had at least assisted with that (given how intoxicated he'd been).

Ignoring the worry in his gut, Tony pushed it aside and texted Steve:

_  
Peter with you? TS_

  
It didn't take long for a reply to pop up:  
  
  
_He is now. We're in Queens. Separated for a bit to do some errands, but met up for a late lunch. We'll be heading back soon. SR_

_  
Bring me back something greasy! <3 TS_

_  
Oh? Are we on speaking terms again? You seemed determined to ignore me last night. SR_

_  
Look, I didn't handle it the best, I know. But I was frustrated with how stubborn you're being. TS_

_  
I know. Buck says I gotta stop assuming the worst and put some of my faith in you. And the others too. SR_

_  
Jesus, I should start bringing Barnes to these meetings. TS_

_  
Very funny. SR_

_  
How's Pete? What did he get up to? TS_

_  
Said he went to see some friends. He seems a bit quiet today. SR_

  
Tony paused at that. Definitely unusual for Peter to be 'quiet' any day, unless something was really wrong. He gave Steve some kind of generic reply about the kid being 'tired', but opted to just talk to Peter himself whenever they got back.

  
Except that didn't happen.  


When Steve and Bucky ran into him later that evening, they told him Peter had been intercepted by Clint and the others to join in on their gaming. Knowing how much Peter adored being included in the antics of the rest of the team, Tony decided to let him be, and speak to him before bed. But when he'd resurfaced from the lab, Friday informed him Peter had already gone to bed.

  
This, somehow, manages to go on for the next few days.

  
Tony wakes up with the intention of seeing Peter in the morning for their usual routine – but the kid is either gone before he's up, or sleeps in so late that Tony has to continue his business for the day, and doesn't get to see him. And every time he tries to catch Peter for lunch or dinner, the kid gives some awkward, stammering excuse that he has plans... or, sometimes, just bolts from the room altogether if he sees Tony approaching.

  
Not only is it worrying, but it's also _really_ starting to piss him off.

  
Tony had gotten used to having Peter as a part of his schedule; he likes talking to him, teasing him, goofing off with him, giving him advice, mentoring him, and generally doing all that... 'dad' themed stuff his own old man never cared to do. Call it past-Daddy-issues or whatever you want, but after everything they had been through, he cared for the kid. Taking that kind of connection to Peter away was making him irritable.

  
So, the next morning – Tony got up at the crack of dawn, brewed some coffee, and hatched his plan. He had FRIDAY alert him as to when Peter started to show signs of life... so that he could stand right outside his bedroom door, and ambush him the moment he stepped out.

  
Peter looked so shocked to see him camped at his door; standing there with two cups of coffee and a smile.

  
“Long time no see, kiddo. You sleep ok?” he asked, extending one of the cups out; it was made just how Peter liked (a fuck load of sugar and a bit of cream).

  
Peter didn't reply immediately. He just swallowed and had that 'deer spooked in the headlights' look of his. “Uh... y-yeah.... yeah... fine.” he eventually answered.

  
Tony narrowed his eyes a bit, and wriggled the still-extended cup in front of him. Peter blinked and startled himself into action, finally taking the cup from Tony's hand.

  
“Man, you really are dozy in the morning, huh?” he said, smiling and doing his best to be casual about the fact they hadn't really spoken in nearly a week. “Come on. Let's make some breakfast, and after we can pop down to the workshop. I got a few things I want you to look at.”

  
Peter seemed to be having a hard time meeting Tony's eyes. Or if he did, it would only be for a few seconds, before he pulled away again and looked at his coffee cup, the floor, the wall, his shirt – literally _anything_ else but Tony.

  
“I'm... not really hungry.” the kid finally answered.

  
Tony nodded, “Straight to the lab, then? I dig your enthusiasm. I can always have some donuts sent in. Everyone loves donuts.” he tried again.

  
Peter gave him a small (and totally not real) smile, “I'm fine. I- ... actually have some stuff to do this morning. Not really free.”

  
“This afternoon then. Or evening. I've got no plans today. Free as a bird.” Tony countered. Maybe he was pushing a little hard, but the kid was acting strangely. When had he ever had to (practically) beg Peter to do something with him?

  
Peter looked a bit sheepish at that, and kept his eyes down, “M-Maybe... tonight. I've just got stuff. Today.”

  
It took Tony's mind an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was being rejected. “Alright, well. Stuff's important. I get stuff.” he nodded, “You can text me this afternoon. Let me know. We'll grab dinner somewhere if you wanna get out of the Tower. I know it can get a bit cramped in here.”

 _  
Despite having nearly a hundred floors to escape to_ , his mind supplied.

  
Peter gave him another half-smile and inched the door closed, “Yeah, I'll text you. Thanks.”

  
Tony stood there for a few minutes, staring at Peter's closed doors while trying to rack his brain as to what could be going on inside that kid's head. This was definitely new territory; a far cry from the kid who had always showed boundless energy, a need to please, and who had always been _more_ than eager to spend time with Tony in any capacity. It was possible the kid was entering those 'terrible teen' stages. But Tony had always imagined Peter's adolescent-phases to involve more talking, more energy, and double the sass.

  
He'd eventually made his way back to the kitchen, and sat at their island – poorly attempting to read a newspaper and drink the rest of his coffee, while waiting for another sign of Peter. The kid did emerge about forty-five minutes later, but blurred past him so quickly in a bee-line for the elevator that Tony only had time to call out a pathetic, “Text me later, kid!” before Peter was gone.

  
“Later” of course, turns out to be closer to five o'clock, and all he gets is a brief text from Peter saying he 'met up with friends' and 'won't be back till later'. Followed by another quick text telling Tony not to wait up.  
  


He tries not to be hurt. Or concerned. Or suspicious.

  
But in the end, he is all of those things.

  
Peter continues to avoid him like the plague for the next _two_ weeks. The kid is remarkably slippery with his appearances and his excuses. He even seems to resort to using the other Avengers as blockers; he sits beside Barnes, or Bruce, and even Scott at dinner – pointedly talking to everyone but Tony. He plays console games with Sam and Clint, and trains with Natasha and Steve. Even Bruce admitted Peter pops down to the lab every so often to work on his web fluid... but only, it seemed, when Tony wasn't there.

  
Otherwise, Peter spends his time outside of the Tower, doing god-knows-what in the city. But truth be told, the kid was almost eighteen now. He couldn't really _stop_ him...

  
But he _could_ corner Steve and Bruce in his workshop.

  
He has FRIDAY call them down one morning after breakfast – and as soon as they were inside, Tony had the room on lockdown.

  
“...Is this really necessary?” Steve smirks, gesturing to the locked-down lab. Bruce just seems resigned to it, cleaning his glasses as they both walked over toward where Tony stood.

  
His arms were crossed, and a frown was on his face as he answered, “For now it is. This is a conversation that stays in this room until I know more.” Tony stood up a bit straighter, “Peter's been avoiding me. Let's get that little fact out of the way right now.”

  
The other two men nodded cautiously. It was no secret that _everyone_ had noticed the rapidly growing distance between Tony and Peter since it first began.

  
“You've gone into the city with him a few times.” Tony said, directing his questioning to Steve. “I want to know everything. What he said, what he's been like, and where he's going.”

  
Steve shakes his head, “It's not what you think...”

  
“No? Because what I'm _thinking_ is that you've been filling Peter's head with some kind of nonsense, and now he's starting to see me as the monster you--”

  
“Woah woah woah...” Steve stopped him, holding up his hands toward the genius, “Tony, that isn't true. I would _never_ say anything like that about you to Peter.”

  
The genius hesitated, but didn't seem entirely convinced, “I actually _don't_ know that, do I? I _don't_ know _what_ you get up to in the city – since my kid won't bring me along.”

  
Neither Bruce nor Steve pointed out the use of 'my' kid.

  
“Tony, I know you're upset and confused, but... you have to think rationally. Everyone's been getting along well. I doubt Steve has a hidden agenda to turn a seventeen-year old kid against you.” Bruce chimed in.

  
Steve nodded, “I wouldn't. I know you have been- ....” he took a breath, “Look, we _all_ see it. The way you are with Peter. You've changed, Tony. And that's a great thing. I swear to you that no one- ... and I _mean_ no one... on this team would ever dream of jeopardizing the relationship you have with that kid.”

  
Oddly enough, none of this made Tony feel better.

  
“As much as this conversation is... y'know, giving me the warm-and-fuzzies about team spirit... it still doesn't explain what's happening with Peter. You _must_ know something. You're Captain America! You're the Hulk! Peter idolizes you both almost as much as he does me... Or _did_... it's hard to tell now.”

  
A brief silence fell over both men, before Steve finally cleared his throat.

  
“...I _tried_ to ask, alright? Why he had a sudden interest in visiting Queens so much now. I figured it would be painful, since his Aunt is- ..." the hero shook his head, "Anyway, Buck and I tired not to pry. The kid seemed to want to be alone to do his own thing.” Steve paused, keeping his eyes steadily on Tony. “Though a few days ago, we tailed him. Just a bit. Wanted to make sure he wasn't hiding anything dangerous, or trying to deal with a threat by himself.” Tony nodded, grateful that Barnes and the Cap were looking out for him - but too interested in the rest of the story to say so aloud. “We saw him go into his old apartment. In Queens. The building looks a little worse for wear, but it's clear people are still living in it. He spent at least a few hours in there, before taking off again. We waited a few minutes before heading inside... 'Parker' is still on the list of residents, so we went up to take a look.”

  
Tony took another step, “...And?!” he prompted impatiently.

  
“Well, it- ...” Steve shared a brief look with Bruce, “It just looks like he's been... cleaning. Tidying the place up. Some of it's still covered in dust, and it's messy; we figured no one had been in there since Thanos' little visit. Which makes sense, I suppose, since you took Pete and his Aunt in right after. But there were new cleaning supplies and garbage bags.” Steve crossed his arms, leaning against the worktable as he went on, “I talked to the superintendent. He said Peter came to him about a year ago and asked if he could hold the place for them. Apparently, the kid's been paying rent for it. Our guess is he's been using your overzealous idea of allowance to do it. Y'know, in my day, an allowance was five cents.”

  
Tony didn't answer (not even a smile), but his mind seemed to be running at full speed.

  
“...Why? Why would he _need_ to do that? Why not tell me?” Tony asked, shaking his head.

  
Steve just shrugged, “I don't know. The super said it's no trouble; said he'd always liked the Parkers, and even offered to keep it for them rent-free until his Aunt recovered. But Peter wouldn't have it. The kid just kept leaving envelopes of money every month.”

  
“Maybe he feels bad?” Bruce offered gently. When both Tony and Steve turned their attention to him, Bruce stood up a bit straighter, “I mean- ... maybe it's a guilt thing? Or, a grieving thing. He wants to do something productive related to his old life. Cleaning up the home he and his Aunt had might be a coping mechanism since she's... well... still sleeping.” he finished diplomatically.

  
Tony figured that _could_ be possible. The kid had a crazy guilt-slash-hero complex, and might be trying to deal with the fact she still wasn't waking up. Maybe he felt bad about their growing relationship; Tony gave him whatever he wanted, without question, and had let him have free run of the Tower. He definitely hadn't intended to 'replace' Peter's aunt. Shit, no one could replace her. He didn't want that. He just wanted to.... what? Co-parent? Co-mentor? Be something to the kid?  


“Oh man. Aren't you going to be _so_ bummed when they move out?”

  
Tony turned quickly toward the sound of the new voice. Behind him, a large holo-screen was open. Scott, Clint, Sam, Natasha, and Bucky were all huddled around it. Clearly, they had been there for a while, and clearly _no one_ had said anything to him.  
  
  
“Seriously?! This is a _group_ convention now?” Tony snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose, “What part of 'lock down' don't you understand, Friday?”

  
The A.I answered (almost sweetly), “Sorry boss. I was unaware that included video-telecommunication. When your team issued a command-feed, I had no reason to deny the request.”

  
“Great.” he muttered, “So glad to have you all join in on the conversation.”

  
Natasha spoke up first, “We've been concerned. Peter hasn't been himself.”

  
“And what do you mean, _when_ they move out?! No one's moving out. ” Tony barked toward the group – ignoring Natasha's comment for the time being.

  
The others looked at Scott, since clearly, he had been the one to say it. The other man hesitated for a moment, losing his confidence as he cleared his throat, “Well.... y'know... I mean- ... uh....”

  
“Spit it out, Ant Queen.” Tony pushed.

  
Scott gave him a small glare, before shrugging, “Look, I just meant- ... well, you didn't expect him to stay here _forever._ Right?” he paused, “I mean, once his Aunt wakes up they'll move back to their place.”

  
Embarrassingly enough.... Tony _hadn't_ considered that.

  
In his mind, May woke up – recovered in the Tower – and they all stayed there and lived happily ever after. Which must have translated somehow on his expression, because when he looked back toward the team, they all seemed rather sad. Even Bruce and Steve were giving him a soft look.

  
“I didn't expect _anything_. I just thinking that far ahead. I live in the now, people.” he said, trying to get back some of his usual bravado. It was just a shame that no one was buying it. “And while this informative therapy session explains _some_ of Peter's behaviour – it doesn't explain all of it. Why is he avoiding me, and not the rest of you? What's with all the 'acting weird' stuff?”

  
Everyone seemed to shrug at the question.

  
“Ah...”

  
All eyes turned toward Bruce, who was picking his nails absently, “He _was_ acting a bit weird when... y'know... I came up. That night?"

  
Tony frowned, as the team chimed in with a bunch of 'w _hat night?_ ' and ' _when was this?_ ' and ' _what happened?_ '

  
The genius stepped forward, “Friday, play the surveillance from the night Bruce came up. Few weeks ago. Start when I got back from that meeting.” he ordered.

  
Another large holo-screen appeared, and the footage began playing; _screen-Tony storming out of the elevator, definitely upset, definitely angry, and definitely headed right for the bar._

  
The whole team remained eerily quiet as they watched Tony drink himself stupid. In fact, he ended up ordering Friday to 'skip forward' a few times because he felt a mixture of shame and embarrassment at how quickly he descended into old habits. He didn't particularly want to watch himself behaving like an asshole.

_  
Screen-Tony slouched on the sofa, tossing another bottle into the air to be broken while muttering to himself..._

_  
Then Peter arrived into the frame of the footage._

  
  
Tony's heart had never plummeted so fast.

 


	3. Righting the Wrongs

 

 

The workshop was eerily silent after the video.

 

Steve cast a quick glance over toward Tony to see the man looking completely devastated. Red-rimmed eyes, mouth agape, hands shaking as they curled into fists. He could see the beginning spirals of self-loathing and an all-encompassing shame that could prove to be destructive if they let it fester.

 

“Oh... god...” Tony finally uttered, “Oh _Christ_...” his hands gripped his head, fingers tugging strongly at his dark unruly hair as he hunched himself over.

 

Steve and Bruce both approached him, “Tony, come on...” Cap soothed, patting his back, “It's- ... everyone says things they don't mean when they're drunk. Peter knows you weren't-”

 

“No, he _doesn't_ know I was just talking out my ass. That's pretty fuckin' obvious since he's been avoiding me ever since!” The genius snapped, standing up straight and turning his frantic expression on the two other men, “I took out my shitty day and horrible mood on the person who _least_ deserved it. Don't give me these meaningless platitudes about how 'he _understands_ ' or any other bullshit like that.”

 

Steve and Bruce didn't say anything. They simply watched as Tony paced back and forth, looking like he wanted to tear himself (or his workshop) apart. “No feedback from the peanut gallery?!” he asked, gesturing toward the holo-screen, where the some of the other Avengers still sat. They all remained quiet, sad, and uncertain as to what to say. “No comments about how I fucked things up once again? How I've no one to blame but myself? Maybe some quip about how you knew I couldn't handle having a kid around? Gotta mess him up somehow, I suppose--”

 

“Tony, stop.” Natasha spoke at last. Her voice was firm, but held a more sympathetic tone that usual, “No one would ever accuse you of that. We already told you: you've been good with Peter. You're good _for_ Peter. This was just a mistake, and... you just need to fix it.”

 

Tony bit his lower lip to the point of nearly splitting it open, “Oh! And how might I _do_ that, Natasha? How do I approach a kid who can't even stand to be in the same room as me anymore, and explain that I 'didn't mean' any of the pure drunken venom I hurled at him?!”

 

She didn't answer him, but held his eye-contact steadily.

 

“Friday, show me the footage of what happened after Bruce arrived.” he ordered, turning back around and marching back to the other holo-screen.

 

Bruce stepped forward this time, “Tony this isn't necessary.”

 

“Like _fuck_ it isn't.” the genius muttered, tortured eyes already glued to the screen as the video began to play again.

 

> _It shows Peter wandering out to the sitting room area – pacing quietly, every so often glancing toward the shattered bottles that were scattered around the place, before beginning to pace again. When Bruce emerges, Peter quickly walks over to him and they seem to exchange a few words. Bruce pats Peter on the shoulder with a clear display of affection and encouragement, before walking toward the elevator and disappearing (presumably, back to his own floor)._
> 
>  
> 
> _Peter stands there for a few minutes before finally turning around to take in the room again. With a resigned air, he begins to clean up. He moves quietly and efficiently, picking up the empty bottles first to throw them in a garbage bag, followed by carefully sweeping up the ones that were broken. He wipes up a few spills, and then tosses the trashbags down the garbage-chute. He stands there silently for a few minutes, before finally taking a seat at the kitchen island._
> 
>  
> 
> _The teen rests his head in his hands, and just... sits there. For a whole hour and a half._

 

Tony's breath hitches, and he tries to blink away the wetness forming in his eyes as he watches Peter finally move again.

 

But he doesn't go to bed.

 

> _He takes the elevator. FRIDAY switches the feed, and suddenly they are watching Peter emerge on May's floor in the Medical-Bay. He carefully walks into her room, and sits in what has been rightly dubbed 'his chair' by her bedside._
> 
>  
> 
> _Again, Peter doesn't seem to say anything. He just stares at her comatose form, face sunken in obvious heartache. The kid always had worn his heart on his sleeve. He sits there quietly for nearly two hours, just staring at May._
> 
>  
> 
> “ _Aunt May...” his voice sounds broken; soft and vulnerable as he swallows. Tears are already pooling in his eyes, “I- .... I've tried. Really I have.” he begins, sounding more earnest as his continues, “I tried not to be in the way. I-I tried... not to talk too much or upset anyone or be over-excited or anything. I tried super hard, but I- ... I wasn't- ...” Peter stops talking, hiccuping as he wipes at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “I screwed up. I thought Tony and I- ... I mean, I thought he was- ... I-I thought M-Mr. Stark was ok... with... w-with all this, but he- ... he never....”_

 

Tony wipes furiously at his own eyes, if only because he doesn't want to take his eyes off the screen in front of him.

 

> “ _You s-should wake up soon... if you can. Please, just wake up.” Peter begs, leaning forward so that the top half of his body is as close to May as possible, “Y-Y-You just gotta wake up, and then we can go back to Queens and every- ... everything will be normal, so... so... I can stop bothering Mr. St- ....” the kid began to weep again. “I wanna go home, May.”_

 

It's said in such a broken-hearted and earnest way – that Tony immediately wants to throw himself off the side of his own damn Tower. He wants to whiz past floor after floor after floor, until he smacks into the cold concrete below, because that's exactly what he deserves.

 

> _Peter sobs into his crossed arms, which are resting just beside May's hip. He continues for a few minutes, before lifting his head and staring at her again – like he's somehow disappointed his pleas didn't work. Instead of leaving, Peter rests his head on his arms again... and takes May's hand. It's a deadweight, and completely unresponsive as he lifts it up, and ever-so carefully positions it so it's resting atop his head._
> 
>  
> 
> _A last-ditch attempt to draw some comfort from her unconscious form... a gesture May had no-doubt perfected when it came to comforting Peter when he was at his lowest._
> 
>  
> 
> _The feed skips forward then, showing Peter staying by her side until morning, when he gets up – still in his Spider-Man suit (sans the mask) – and returns back to the penthouse, and into his room by 6am._

 

FRIDAY stops the surveillance feed, and the room falls into solemn quiet once more.

  
Tony makes a wounded noise, unlike any his team have ever heard before, and tries to barrel out the workshop door. Steve and Bruce scramble after him,

  
“Tony... Tony, _stop_.” Steve orders firmly, barely managing to get into the elevator with Bruce quick behind, right before the doors close. “This isn't the time to confront Peter about what happened.”

  
Tony was distraught; his breathing laboured and glare set on Rogers.

  
“He's right. You're upset and... overly emotional right now. You don't want it to blow up in your face.” Bruce tried gently, “You should calm down first. We can talk about how to help you. We can fix it.”

  
The elevator stops on one of the common floors, and to Tony's surprise, the team is already standing there. Everyone is hovering around the elevator in a semi-circle; their gazes both sympathetic and firm.

  
“Get out of the way.” he snarls to them all.

  
“You're in no condition to speak to Peter like this. Your emotions are running too high, it will only upset him more.” Natasha soothes, holding up her hands like she was trying to tame a skittish colt. “Take some time... let it all out... and we can come up with a plan.”

  
Tony drives the palms of his hands into his eyes, “This isn't your problem, it's mine! _I_ did this. _I_ tore that kid's heart out and just- ... stepped on it, and- ....” his cut himself off. His throat felt like it was closing up. There were too many people staring at him with such pity....

  
“Steve, Bruce, get out.” Natasha ordered, briskly walking forward.

  
The two men followed the command almost immediately, stepping aside to let her in. “Friday, close the doors.” The elevator slid shut again, and she was left with Tony. “Hey...” she spoke gently, lifting her hands to grasp either side of his arms. “Tony, _breathe._ ”

  
That simple phrase seemed to be his undoing. Tony let out a devastated sob, and crouched down, eventually bringing himself to curl in and collapse back against the wall of the elevator. Natasha positioned herself down by his side, eyes flicking over him worriedly... but noticeably out of her depth. She had made a reputation for herself being able to read others. She could tell Tony was one step away from a meltdown, and figured it was best done out of sight of Steve and the rest of the team. She knew he'd find it humiliating later – and while he'd probably rather be alone – Natasha was concerned enough to want to keep an eye on him for the time being.

  
“I'm sorry, Tony...” she said, reaching forward to grip his arm consolingly. “It wasn't an ideal thing to happen, but it happened. You're human. Peter will understand.” Natasha soothed. “He adores you. Take a day or two, and then explain yourself. Apologize. Show him you were wrong.”

  
Tony kept his head buried in his arms during her little bout of encouragement – and hesitated for a few minutes afterward before lifting it up again. He rubbed his palms into his eyes again, taking a few deep breaths while trying to get his emotions under wraps again. He knew Natasha was right, but fuck. He'd never felt so horrible in his life. He'd shown Peter the worst version of himself, and that was something he had _never_ wanted to happen. He cared what that kid thought of him – and had been determined to stay the hero Pete thought he was.

  
“Any other... pearls of wisdom?” he asked, clearing his throat as he finally looked up at her.

  
The side of her mouth twitched up slightly, “Maybe get rid of the rest of the booze in your place?”

  
He huffed out a laugh, sniffing as he collected himself. He did feel calmer now. He'd gotten it out of his system, “But how am I supposed to get through the next Seven Stages of Grief I know are coming?” he teased; the raw underlying truth of that question tainting the joke.

  
“Without booze?” she asked, smiling a bit more easily now, “You'll have to invent something.” They both smiled again, and a few beats of silence fell between them before she spoke again. “You haven't _lost_ Peter, Tony. So I'd say the Seven Stages of Grief aren't necessary.”

 

Tony didn't say anything after that. Neither of them did.

 

 

 

Despite every instinct and urge he was feeling – Tony did what his team suggested.

 

He gave Peter space.

 

Did that stop him from prying? Heck no. Tony resorted to watching FRIDAY's surveillance footage any time Peter interacted with another resident. Clint had called him 'creepy' and Rhodes had just laughed.

 

In retrospect, it might not have been his best idea. Especially when he had to watch Cap, Peter, and Natasha have a conversation in the common-level kitchen; they asked what he was up to that day, and the kid admitted he was going to visit a few Universities to get some information. He wanted to enrol, and made some kind of self-deprecating joke that “Spider-Man should have at least a college-level education”. School was important.  


All Tony felt was another knife to his heart – and judging by the look Steve and Natasha shared when Peter's back was turned, they caught the connection too...

  
“ _Y'know maybe you should've gone back to school after we saved the world, huh?” he said, his tone a bit shorter than normal. “Bottles everywhere? Intoxicated super-genius? What's one plus the other, kid?”_

  
Tony winced at the sound of his own voice in his head, before letting out a low groan and thumping his head against the workshop table – while Bruce made a sympathetic noise from behind him. One stupid, flippant comment (that wasn't even an issue!) had made the kid doubt himself. The genius felt twice as guilty now; Peter always had a tendency to take everything Tony said to heart. He _knew_ better.

  
All he wanted to do now was run upstairs, grab the Ferrari, and take Peter around to different schools in style. _He could probably make a couple of calls... maybe a few different donations, depending on where Peter wanted to go. Tony could even suggest a few options for someone of Peter's intelligence, but then again, going to a local New York school would be best. Keep the kid close and in range in case anything came up..._

  
“You're hopeless.” Bruce huffed from his table, shaking his head with a smile.

  
Tony whirled around to look at him, narrowing his eyes, “Are you psychic??”

  
“Nope. Just observant.”

 

 

The next time he watched some of the footage – he found Bucky and Peter in one of the training rooms. The Winter Soldier was holding the reinforced punching-bag in place while the kid pummelled it. He had been getting better with his combat skills; Tony felt a swell of pride as he watched Bucky nod at the progress, and give a few words and notes of encouragement.

  
When they stopped to rest, Bucky handed Peter a water bottle so he could take a drink. The kid eyed the older man for a minute or two before blurting out, “I've been cleaning my place.” He stopped as Bucky froze, looking at him blankly. “I-I mean, _our_ place. The place with my Aunt. Our old place? In Queens. I've been cleaning it. Getting it ready.”

  
“...Oh yeah?” Bucky hummed, taking a drink of water himself.

  
Peter nodded, wiping some sweat away from his temple with one of the small towels, “Yeah. I mean... I just figured- ... it was for the best, y'know? It's not like I can stay here forever. Once May wakes up, we'll just go back to our regular lives.” Peter, true to form, seemed to interpret Bucky's silent nod as a sign that he wasn't entirely convinced. “Not that living here isn't great! I didn't- ... I mean, it's cool. You guys should totally stay here, because it's a lot of fun, and I know Mr. Stark likes having everyone around, it's just- ...” he trailed off a bit, eyes lowering as he seemed to retreat back into his head, “I'm just some kid. And I'm pretty sure Mr. Stark isn't a... kid... person. Or like, he didn't want kids. Or wasn't expecting to have to look after me, once May- ....” he stopped again, swallowing. “I think he feels like May is his fault, and I totally don't blame him. Y'know. Why would I? He didn't call Thanos here, and... everyone was fighting. It was important. He shouldn't feel obligated to... um....”

  
Peter trailed off as he looked back up toward Bucky. The solider was frowning, tilting his head a bit as he waited for the teen to continue. Tony was also on the edge of his seat – holding himself back from pressing the 'intercom' button for the training-room, and shouting that Peter _could_ and _should_ stay there forever because it was fun having him around, and Tony wouldn't have it any other way – but Peter mistook Bucky's sympathy for something else.

  
“I'm almost eighteen. I can look after myself... s'all I'm saying...” Peter finished, plastering one of his tough smiles on his face. “Hey, do you mind if we call it a day? I wanna go visit May for a bit, and Rhodes said he and Clint were going to some kind of Food-Truck caravan by Central Park tonight and I could tag along. S-So... thanks for the training! It was cool. We'll do it again.” he called, jogging away with a skittish energy that both Tony and Bucky shouldn't find so endearing.

  
To his surprise, Bucky turned and looked up toward one of the cameras – as if looking at Tony himself... and grinned.

  
_“Stop smiling, you look like an idiot!”_ Tony's voice came from the intercom.

  
Bucky just laughed.

 

 

It didn't take long for word to get around that Tony had, to quote Bruce: “Gone full 1984” mode on any interactions with Peter. As a result, the team both tried to simultaneously annoy him _and_ show their support for Peter.  


They did this with hugs.

  
Suddenly, everyone was giving the kid some physical affection. Pats on the back and shoulder, hugging, high fives, head-locks, the works. And as much as Tony _hated_ the fact he wasn't a part of it... he had to admit, it was working. Peter was beginning to brighten up – a bit of his spirit returning as he bonded even more with the rest of the team.

  
He even spent over an hour telling his ever-silent Aunt all about it; he seemed a bit confused by the sudden gestures, but his shy smiles and bright-eyes spoke volumes. He liked it. He thrived on the support. The kid was slowly coming to accept the idea that the team (Tony included) cared a great deal for him.

  
In fact, with Peter's good mood being so infectious... Tony had started to collect his own courage. It was a good time to talk to him; to try to explain himself, and apologize as many times as he could for what had happened.

 

But his plans were completely derailed by one game-changing event:

 

May woke up.

 

Tony had gotten an alert from FRIDAY that Bruce was requesting his presence in the Med-Bay. His mind immediately went to May, and he scrambled away from his workshop – demanding the A.I tell him what was wrong.

  
When she answered simply with, “May Parker has regained consciousness. Dr. Banner and Peter are with her now.” ... Tony's heart dropped into his stomach.

  
May was awake.

  
She was _awake_. Peter would be happy, and she would recover; she would bitch him out for being a horrible guardian after hearing what Tony had done – and the Parkers would move out of the Tower, and he would never ever be able to make amends the way he wanted to.

  
He took a deep breath, trying to push his panic away, and steeled himself.

 

FRIDAY let him off at the Medical-Bay, and Tony carefully made his way toward her room. Peter's excited voice could be heard from down the hall – interjecting at multiple moments while Bruce explained her condition, and what was left to do for her recuperation.

  
When he got to the door, the genius just took in the scene before him. Peter was smiling wider than Tony had seen in months; his eyes were wet, and it was clear he'd been crying in both happiness and relief that she was awake. May looked tired, but content and comfortable as she listened to Bruce, one hand absently stroking Peter's hair – while the kid leaned into the touch like a starved puppy.

  
“Tony.” Bruce greeted him with an easy smile.

  
Peter and May both looked over to him. May with a weary smile, and Peter with a bit more trepidation... but a small smile, nonetheless. “Sorry, didn't want to interrupt. Just heard the best-looking woman in the building had woken up.” he teased, forcing a casual smile onto his face as he took a step into the room.

  
“Easy on the charm, slugger. You'll make me regret regaining consciousness in this gaudy Tower.” she teased back gently.

  
Tony gasped dramatically, “May, this gaudy-eyesore of a Tower has been your home for the past year and a half. Show us a bit of love, hm?”

  
Her eyes did soften at that, and she nodded, “You're right. I'm happy this tower – _and_ its residents – are all still standing.” May turned her eyes to Peter, and drew him close, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead. Peter slumped into her touch, still smiling but sniffing back his tears.

  
Tony wondered how fast the kid had raced down here. Maybe he'd been talking when she'd woken up? He'll have to watch the surveillance feed later – maybe even save a copy of it for May.

  
“Your vitals look good.” Bruce's voice broke through his thoughts, “We'll keep a close eye on you for the next couple of days. If everything checks out, we'll have the Captain work with you on some physical therapy to get back some of those reflexes.”

  
May laughed, “Captain America? ...Guess this is my lucky day, huh Pete?”

  
Peter didn't answer at first. Instead, he wiped at his eyes and choked back a sob, “...Actually I think this is _my_ lucky day.”

  
Something in May's expression crumpled then, and she was quick to pull Peter close once more; thin arms wrapping around him, peppering his hair and forehead with kisses. Tony gestured for Bruce to give them a moment – so they both stepped back out of the room. As the clear doors slid closed behind them, Tony turned briefly to take in their tableaux again.

  
It was a good thing that May was awake again.

  
He shouldn't feel like this. He shouldn't feel like he had failed; like he had just lost the best thing he'd had going for him.

  
“You ok?”

  
Bruce's voice brought him (again) out of his thoughts; looking at him with obvious sympathy. “Never better.” Tony answered with his usual calm confidence, “It's a great day. Happy day. May's awake and everything is right with the world again.”

  
He patted Bruce on the back, and began to walk back down the hall toward the elevator, “We'll have to throw a party to celebrate. In a few days. Once she's better, I mean. Spread the word!” he called back over his shoulder, not looking at Banner as he retreated.

 

 

Tony's mood (despite the good news of May's recovery), darkened considerably. His isolated himself a bit more from the team, and seemed to just bounce back and forth between his penthouse and his workshop; he avoided the common areas, and declined invites for lunch and dinner from the others. He claimed to be working on a backlog of upgrades – but everyone seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

  
He was nursing a broken heart. Though the man himself would disagree; his heart wasn't _broken_ , it was just experiencing some major anxiety... and growing desperate.

  
Tony _still_ hadn't been able to apologize to Peter and make things right. The kid was now spending most of his time chatting with May, learning how to read her vitals with Bruce, and sticking around for her physical-therapy with Cap. Tony couldn't blame him. After nearly losing yet _another_ family member, Peter had every right to be over the moon.

  
But Tony was running out of time. He didn't want any more advice from the team, he didn't want to hover around, or god forbid, let Peter _leave_ with this wedge still driven between their relationship.

 

Which is why he was completely caught off guard (in the midst of a mini panic attack), when Peter showed up unexpectedly in his workshop.

  
It was nearly 1am when it happened. Tony had locked himself away as usual, and had been working on a few upgrades for some of Natasha's weapons. For once, he didn't have music blaring – and had been contently enjoying his craft in relative silence; only the humming of nearby equipment and the occasional movement from the bots filling in as ambient noise.

  
“...Mr. Stark?”

  
Tony whipped his head up and turned around, staring with a semi-shocked expression as Peter hesitantly shuffled in. “Hey...” he greeted, taking a few quick steps toward him. Tony slowed himself down, not wanting to startle the kid – but not wanting to let him leave now that they were alone.

  
“Look, um- ... I just...” Peter took a breath, keeping his eyes lowered a bit before seeming to 'psyche himself up' to finally look Tony in the eyes, “I-I just wanted thank you. For everything.” he began, clutching his hands together, fingers twisting in an anxious kind of gesture, “You've done so much for May, and- ... for me. Personally. And I- ... I know you're not- .... I mean, I _know_ this isn't... um... what you wanted. And I know I've been a pa- ... um... a disruption these past couple of years, so... thanks. For helping me. And May. You're probably super relived that she--”

  
“No.”

  
Tony was surprised to hear his own voice cut through Peter's stammering. The kid seemed caught off guard too, staring back at him like a damn deer; uncertain as to whether or not it should try to run, or stay still to avoid detection from a nearby threat.

  
“No, I'm... not relieved.” Tony continued, clearing his throat and taking a few steps closer, “I mean, I'm glad she's ok. Obviously. But having you here wasn't a disruption. It wasn't unwanted. It wasn't a chore. I'd take care of you and May in a heartbeat. Forever, if you'd let me.”

  
Peter was shaking a bit, and crossed his arms defensively against himself. Tony recognized the gesture; one he had used many times in his past (even now), when emotions were running high and he was trying to keep himself in check. Tony slowed his pace, coming to a stop just a foot or two in front of the teen.

  
“...I'm _so_ sorry Peter.” he muttered gently, eyes glued on the kid. “For everything. What I said that night-”

  
“Stop! Stop.” Peter choked out, eyes beginning to water as he glared at Tony, “Stop making excuses. I said it's fine. I get it. You don't- ... you don't have to say any of this stuff.” he laughs awkwardly, shifting on his feet as he begins to back toward the door. “I just came to say thanks, that's all.”

  
Tony walked forward with each step Peter took; his sad, regretful gaze boring right into Peter, “I'm sorry. I need you to hear me, Pete. I need you to _understand_ what I'm saying. I'm sorry. I was drunk, and upset, and said some incredibly idiotic and cruel things because you happened to be there. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry Peter.”

  
“S-Stop ok!? Just- ... I gotta go...” Peter scrambled back, breathing faster as he smacked his palm against the reinforced glass door of the workshop. It wouldn't open. “Open the door, Friday. Let me out.” he demanded weakly, moving back and forth a few paces before turning back to glance at Tony. “Just forget it, ok!?”

  
But the genius didn't stop. He kept his eyes on Peter, and held his hands up, “Peter.” he tried to coax him gently – but it had the reverse effect. It seemed the kid didn't do well with emotional stress (go figure), and lashed out.

  
Suddenly, he lunged at Tony and pushed him – eyes red and overflowing with tears now, “Shut up! Y-You're just- ... you're so _stupid_! You just get so fucking wasted that you- .... y-you say ALL that stuff and you just- ...” Peter wept, pushing Tony again and again, “You drink and get so different, and then I- ... w-w-what if you'd died? Or did something stupid?! I'm- ... _-shit_... I know I'm annoying and a dumb kid and I talk too much and I- ... I n-never....”

  
Tony didn't let him finish. He wrapped his arms around Peter and hugged him tightly – pulling him right against his chest. The kid struggled a bit, crying angrily and weakly attempting to push himself out of Tony's grip. But the older man wouldn't let go.

  
“I'm so... _sorry,_ Peter... I'm so sorry...” Tony muttered his apologies again and again, surprised to find his own eyes watering, and his cheeks damp with over-spilled tears. He'd thought that watching the footage of him being a total asshole to Peter was was worst... he'd thought he couldn't feel any shittier than he did when the kid was ignore him.

  
But he was wrong. THIS was the worst feeling. Peter crying and hurt because of his actions, his words. His drinking. He'd made the kid cry and doubt (not only himself) but his place in Tony's life.

  
He let Peter cry, holding him as all the energy seemed to evaporate out of him. Tony lowered them both to the ground – sitting back against the wall of the workshop; Peter still in his arms and pressed right against his side.

  
“I- .. I was-...” Peter warbled, his voice a bit muffled from speaking into Tony's shirt, “I just... kept thinking, y'know?... What...” he hesitated, and almost whispered, “W-What if she _never_ woke up?”

  
Tony cleared his throat, and tightened his grip around the teen's shoulders, “Always knew she would. She's a tough woman.” he answered, voice calmer than the lingering tears in his eyes. He sniffed, reigning back his emotions for Peter's sake. He was the adult – he was here to apologize, and be a rock for the kid he'd hurt.

  
They sat there in silence for just over fifteen minutes; only the sound of their breathing returning to normal and the occasional sniffle to piece the air. Tony's hand was absently stroking Peter's back, while the other was clasped around the back of his head, keeping him close (and hopefully calm) as they settled down.

  
Peter eventually murmured, “...You should stop drinking.”

  
“I know.” he admitted, rubbing the teen's back again, “I'm the worst version of myself when I do shit like that. I've... always been a bit of a screw-up, kid. Guess you had to learn that sometime.”

  
Peter didn't answer for a moment or two. Not that Tony was expecting it. Frankly, if he was being honest, the kid deserved to know how horrible he truly w-- “You're not a screw up.” Peter's voice spoke up again, “If you- ... were really that much of a screw up, or... an asshole... you wouldn't have been there for me so many times. Almost more than I can count.” He trailed off for a bit, before adding on, “You're still a hero.”

  
Tony bit his lower lip, and tried not to let himself get overly emotional again. But hearing Peter say that – after everything that he'd said and done that night – meant more than he imagined it would. He tightened his grip on Peter again, and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his hair, “Stop, kid. You'll make me turn on the water works again.” he said, smiling a bit to himself when Peter let out a sad  chuckle, “I think we've both cried enough for one day.”

  
He felt Peter nod against his chest.

 

 

 

“...Boss?”

  
Tony coughed himself awake, blinking and frowning in confusion. He was on the floor? God his whole body ached... and there was something heavy-

 _  
Oh..._ he stopped. Right. It all came flooding back; his emotionally charged confrontation and apology with Peter, followed by a tearful half-resolution before they both passed out. Apparently they'd each been lacking in sleep since their rift. To be fair, a lot _had_ happened.

  
“What's up, Friday?” Tony yawned, looking fondly down at Peter – who was still dead to the world, and fast sleep against his side.

  
The A.I replied quietly, “Sir, May Parker is requesting your presence in the Med Bay. She would like to speak with you.”

  
Tony nodded to himself. “Time to face the music, then?” he mused. By some miracle, he was able to shift the two of them around, until Peter was hoisted into his arms. He carried him out of the workshop and into the elevator, “Drop me off at the penthouse first? Gotta put the kid to bed.”

  
“Of course, sir.”

  
Peter muttered something as he was shifted around, but didn't wake up. Thank god for small mercies. Tony figured this conversation with May wasn't going to be one that Peter should be privy to.

   
When he's finally deposited Peter into bed, Tony stops by his own room to splash some water on his face and make himself look a bit more presentable; like he hadn't passed out with Peter on the floor of his workshop, dried tear tracks on his face and exhaustion and stress still weighing on his shoulders. He takes the elevator back down to the Med-Bay, and quietly heads to May's room. He's a bit surprised she's up, to be honest. She's been getting better and better, but it's nearly 4am now. Everyone else is fast asleep.

  
He slips through the automatic doors and she turns to meet his eyes. She isn't smiling, and looks deceptively calm. "How are you, May? Need anything?" Tony asks, hedging out the situation as he comes closer to her bedside.

  
"Sit." she instructs him simply. Tony hesitates only for a moment, before doing as he's told. May watches him for another moment or two; there's something hard in her eyes - something stern and somewhat judgemental that makes him want to squirm in his chair. "Friday has been very helpful helping me understand what's been going on with you and Peter." Tony freezes, keeping his gaze on hers even though he's dying to look away in shame. "Peter wouldn't tell me anything, so... when your A.I told me you two were speaking in your workshop, she was nice enough to give me a live feed." May continued, taking a deep breath as her hands clenched into fists. "I think it goes without saying that- .... Tony, I don't know _what_ you did, or said, to Peter.... but with apologies like that, I'm betting it wasn't good."

  
Tony could only nod, feeling himself tense - those shameful emotions beginning to bubble to the surface with his guilt. "And the only reason I'm not getting out of this bed to beat the living shit out of you, is because I trust that you will never... _ever_... do anything to hurt that boy again." May swallowed, looking as if she were trying to hold back her own tears. "Is that understood?"

   
Despite every instinct pushing him to look away, to deflect, Tony kept his eyes on her. "May... I swear, I wasn't- .... I never _wanted_ to-"

"Save it." she cut him off, swallowing again and giving him a terse smile, "You're sorry. I get it. You made that clear. Everyone fucks up sometimes, but you-" she pauses again, finally looking away from Tony as she collects her thoughts, "That boy idolizes you. He looks up to you, and he- ... Peter _cares_ what you think. He's smart, and takes everything to heart because that's just the kind of boy he is. And if I have to drag him out of this damn Tower, and forbid you from ever speaking to him again to _protect_ that heart? I'll do it." She brings her eyes up again, steadier, "So don't let it happen again, Stark."

  
His head had already lowered, the humiliation and misery of what had been going on far too heavy on his shoulders. Part of him wanted to tell May to give him one good shot; a good hit to the face or groin to drive the point further home, because he deserved it. "I promise..." he muttered, fighting down every urge he had to beg and grovel at her bedside. The woman deserved nothing less. He'd been tasked with looking after her family, and he'd managed to scar the kid in a way he'd hoped to avoid.  
  
  
"Now," May sniffed, straightening up a bit as she gave him a weak smile. Her hand came to rest on his forearm; rubbing at the fabric of his sleeve with her thumb in a soft, repetitive (and oddly soothing) motion, "Tell me what happened after that fucking Purple-People-Eater came down," Tony couldn't help but bark out a sad laugh to hear her refer to Thanos like that, clearing his throat as he collected himself to meet her eyes again. They were considerably warmer than before, "I can only imagine that your version will differ from Peter's quite a bit. I want to hear all about the last year and a half."

  
Tony nodded, "I'll do you one better. Friday - queue up the photo and video archives, starting from a month after the rebuild." he instructed. A holo-screen appeared in front of May's bed, along with a series of photos and screencaps from the past year. "Better to have a slide-show, don't you think? I figured you'd like pictures..."

  
"You figured right." she answered, keeping her hand on his arm. Tony took a breath, and began to ramble on - telling May story after story, event after event; talking up Peter's growth and development, his accolades, his failures, his antics. May would be laughing one minute and tearing up the next, and Tony was more than happy to go on that emotional journey with her. For the first time, he saw himself interacting with Peter at various times; captured in photographs and footage...

  
May gave his arm a squeeze half-way through, "Who knew Tony Stark would be such a good dad?" she teased.  
  
  
"...Definitely not me." he admitted, eyes flicking over the screens. Tony pursed his lips together for a moment, before taking a breath, "May. I want- ... I understand if you guys want to go back to Queens. But I'd like it- ... shit, I think _everyone_ would like it.... if you decided to stay here. With us." he admitted, looking back toward her with surprisingly earnest eyes, "They adore Peter, and we've enjoyed having him here. You guys could have your own floor, or two. Even. If you wanted. There's no shortage of room. You could go back to work when you felt up to it, but you wouldn't have to worry about a thing. All expenses paid. Financially set for life." Tony knew he was rambling, but it was important to him to get this all out. "We- .. _. I._.. would love to have you both close. Just in case."

  
May didn't answer right away. She just stared at Tony sadly for a moment or two, before nodding, "...Let me think about it, Tony."

  
He nodded, and reluctantly turned back to the holo-screen.

  
  
He'd accept that answer for now.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, yup. Had to extend... again... for one more chapter. Will fix/edit later, but wanted to give you lovely readers an update! This chapter demonstrates my love for SMHC!May, and the way I think she'd handle Tony. She's a bad-ass woman and will protect Peter with everything she's got. Conclusion to come, so stay tuned! Thanks for your patience!


	4. All's Well That Ends

 

 

The next morning, Tony had been sipping his third cup of coffee when FRIDAY alerted him that May and Peter were having a calm, albeit semi-serious, discussion in the Med-Bay. He immediately brought up a holo-screen to try and watch it (he had a sneaking suspicion it was about his little proposal to May that they stay put in the Tower), but Steve was quick to cancel the live-feed while Bucky... quite literally... _dragged_ him out of the workshop. He tried to put up a fight, but both super-soldiers leveled him with an unimpressed glare.  
  


Ok so maybe spying was a _little_ over the top.  
  


A family discussion between the Parkers was none of his business, if you wanted to be technical about it. The laughing and teasing of the team when they heard about it was enough to shame him (a little) for trying. But shit. He really didn't want to lose Peter. He didn't want to lose this new sense of purpose; he had someone to look out for. Someone to help mentor and guide – in a way his father never had. Tony wanted it all to continue: the sleepy mornings, the rambunctious afternoons, the amusing dinners and late-night movies... the teasing, the noogies, the hugs, all of it.  
  


Peter resurfaced later in the day to join the team for dinner, seemingly in good spirits – a little reflective and quiet perhaps, but not in a bad way. He actually sits beside Tony, and when the genius asks him if “Everything is good?” ... Peter responds with a small smile and a nod.

 

A week and a half later, May has been cleared to finally leave the Med-Bay.

 

They have a party. Lots of good food, a few drinks, great music and conversation. Everyone is in high spirits, and Tony can't help but marvel (and really admire) how the team extends such a warm inclusion toward May... like they have known her for years. She easily matches their wit and sass – and Peter is almost bouncing around the room, hyped up on the energy like some over-excited pup. He seems so over-the-moon happy that everyone is getting along.

 

It's perfect.

 

Tony is given a glimpse of what their lives would (and could) be like from now on.

 

The clinking of a glass brings Tony out of his thoughts, and he turns from a conversation with Thor and Bruce to see May at the source of the tapping. “Alright... little announcement. I'll make it short and sweet, I promise.” she says, charming the room with a small smile.  
  


Tony admires her for that. Not many people would be ballsy enough to address a room of superheros with such casual confidence.  
  


“I... wanted to thank you. All of you. For everything you've done for me... for Peter... and, let's be honest, the whole damn world.” she smiles, rubbing Peter's back as he stands beside her looking proud and sheepish all at once. “You've made the two of us feel very welcome here. So, it was a tough decision to go back to Queens.”

 

Tony's heart stopped.

 

“I know Peter's been a bit of a busy-body... cleaning the apartment and taking care of it. From the pictures he's showed me, it looks like it's as good as new.” She pauses to press a kiss to Peter's cheek, which gets an embarrassed grumble from him, and the usual teasing from Clint, Scott and Sam. “So, as soon as the good Captain and Dr. Banner give me the green-light, we'll be making a trek back to the old neighbourhood. And- ... well, you're all welcome to stop by for coffee or cake or... whatever. If you're in the area.” May finishes, laughing and shrugging at the humble offer. “Soooo, cheers?” She lifts her glass, and everyone else echos the 'cheer' before taking a drink.

 

Bruce smiles, and turns to speak to Tony – but the genius is gone.

 

He frowns, and peers around the room, but the other man has disappeared. He looks back toward Peter – and is touched to see that the kid also seems to be looking around for Tony. His expression steeped in concern behind a forced smile that appears each time he looks back toward his aunt or the rest of the team.  
  


“Our friend Tony looked greatly distressed a few minutes ago.” Thor commented, “Do you think he is well?”  
  


Bruce nodded, adjusting his glasses. “I'm sure he'll be fine in a little bit, Thor. Just give him a few minutes.”

 

 

 

 

A few minutes turned into three days.

 

Tony seemed to be able to slip from his bedroom to his workshop without being detected. The team was convinced FRIDAY had a big hand in that – especially since no one was authorized to enter the place. Tony had it (and himself) on complete lockdown. Steve and Bruce did their best to try and visit, or lure him out; hell, Bruce was sure even Natasha, Clint, and Bucky had tried at one time or another.  
  


It was finally Bruce who came up with the brilliant idea to use the one 'authorization code' he knew would work.  
  


Peter Parker's.  
  


A dirty move, maybe, but they were getting desperate. Peter was too sweet to actually use the override code himself – and instead, started making frequent trips upstairs to not-so-subtly look for the MIA genius. He always looked so downtrodden to see that Tony still wasn't around. For Bruce, enough was enough.  
  


When the doctor finally gained access to the blacked-out workshop, he'd done so with a curious (and slightly oblivious) Thor trailing behind. He'd discussed it with the team, and they had all agreed that both Bruce and the God of Thunder were the _least_ confrontational choices to breach the gap.  
  


Tony was hunched over his workbench. There was music playing, but not to the volume Bruce initially expected. That wasn't what concerned him. What concerned him that he was surrounded by bots. Butterfingers, Dum-E, and U... there were even some Bruce didn't think he'd ever seen before.

 

“...Tony?”

 

The genius turned around, sparing the two intruders a few moments of silence, before going back to his work. “Can't believe you used the kid's override code. Low, Banner.” he muttered, “Then again, it's not like Pete's gonna be making use of it. Soooooo knock yourselves out, I guess.” Tony paused again. “Then show yourselves out. Cool?”  
  


“Tony we're just worried about you.” Bruce continued, taking a few steps closer. He eyed a hovering, looping little robot moving around the ceiling – wondering it's purpose. It seemed to be happy enough if the chirping beeps and twirls it was doing was evidence. It really was a mystery; Tony's robots always had this bizarre ability to demonstrate their emotions. Bruce had never known 'emoting' robots existed but... Tony Stark had found a way. It was no wonder the man's favourite Pixar movie was 'Wall-E'.  
  


Tony didn't look at them as he continued to work, “Nothing to be worried about. Everything's good. Everything's great.”  
  


“Oh, so you're _not_ upset about Peter and hiding down here to avoid everyone? ...Could've fooled me.” Bruce muttered, looking around on the over-cluttered work tables.  
  


“Come on, Mean Green. Let's be real. I'm the _last_ guy qualified to have children. It was nice playing house for a while, but it's back to reality.” Tony answered.  
  


When Thor let out a sudden, hearty laugh, it drew the eyes of both Bruce _and_ Tony to him. He was leaning against one of the tables, a small spider-looking robot perched on the God's shoulder. “I think you have demonstrated otherwise, friend Tony.” the blonde grinned, and gestured around the room. “You are _surrounded_ by your children right now! Smart, capable children who are thick-skinned with hearty metal and ready to protect you at a moment's notice. An admirable family indeed.”  
  


The other two men just stared at him. Bruce flicked his eyes back to Tony – who was (for once) speechless.  
  


Dum-E made a little beeping and whirring noise, before making some awkward gesture – which Bruce realized was a pat on the back to his creator. Tony looked around himself, as if seeing the robots huddled around him for the first time.  
  


“What is all this?” he frowned, shooing them all, “Get back to work! All of you. Scat. Skiddadle.”  
  


The bots just chirped and twirled and whistled... moving closer to him.  
  


Bruce wondered if Tony was biting his lower lip in frustration, or to stop it from trembling.

 

 

 

After being ambushed in his workshop, Tony expected the rest of the team to be keeping watch for him to resurface. But he had to wonder what Bruce and Thor might have told them about their little visit – because no one was lurking to corner him when he emerged nearly six hours later. His floor was quiet, and given that it was nearly midnight... Tony figured he could breathe easy.  
  


What he _wasn't_ expecting, was to find Peter Parker in his kitchen - wearing his Spider-Man mask, perched atop the island counter with his legs dangling back and forth.   
  


“Tony! Hey!” Peter hopped off quickly, tugging off the mask. His hair was askew, and he looked happy enough. Maybe a bit bashful at Tony's shocked expression.  
  


The genius hesitated for a moment, before looking around. “Huh... could'a sworn it's past your bedtime.”  
  


Peter smiled, “Please. I think we did away with 'bedtime curfews' the third time you made me stay up late with you to marathon cheesy horror movies from the eighties.”  
  


Tony smirked a bit, before neutralizing his expression once more.  
  


“So what's up?” he asked, aiming for casual.  
  


Peter didn't seem to be buying it, and watched as Tony weaved around him to get to his coffee maker. “Um, I just- .... I wanted to ask you...” he sighed, “Why did you make that offer to May? About... living here? With everyone?”  
  


“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Tony shrugged, still focusing on starting up the coffee maker, “Figured she could take it easy, not rush into working again... everyone seems to like her. _I_ like her. Everything would be taken care of, and keeping her would mean keeping you.”  
  


Peter was surprised at the bluntness of his answer. “You, uh- ... want to keep me?”  
  


“Look, I'm a selfish guy, Parker.” Tony interrupted, still not really looking at the kid. “I've become a bit addicted to making our little family bigger. I like having people around. Bizarre, I know, since I'm Mister Self-Isolation most of the time. But you were... different. I guess? You remind me of me. You're smart, you've got a good heart and- .... I liked looking out for you. Again. Probably for selfish reasons. Maybe to prove to myself I could. Show everyone I could mentor and take care of a kid better than my own old man ever did.” Tony paused for a moment, and Peter could feel his heart beating faster and faster. “But it's not about me. This is about you, and- ... what's best for you. And your aunt. And if Queens is where you need to be, where you _want_ to be, then I'm down. You still won't have to worry about a thing. You and May can have anything you need.”  
  


Tony looked at him then, and gave him a tight (albeit resigned) smile. “Maybe just give me visitation-rights sometimes, huh?”  
  


“I... never said I was going to Queens with her, though.”  
  


The genius does freeze at that. He stares at Peter curiously, until the teen continues, “I- ... May is going to go back. But she thinks- ... I mean, we talked about it. Actually, her words were that I should stay and 'look out' for you. She thinks you need it.”  
  


Tony couldn't help but choke out a shocked laugh at that, and shake his head. Peter smiled too. “She thinks it'll be good for me to stay here, and train and... stuff... if that's cool?” He blushes adorably, and Tony abandons his coffee to walk toward him. “I'm still going to visit her. Couple times a week, maybe. I'll help her move too, and... I'll have  _some_ stuff there, y'know? But I think most of the time I'll be here. I'm- ...I wanna look at schools, too. I've got about three in New York I might go to. And the Tower's closer to most of them, so I just figured--”   
  


He cuts himself off as Tony pulls him into a strong hug. Peter is tense for a moment, before he sags into Tony and wraps his arms around him.  
  


“Whatever you want, Pete.” Tony murmurs. “You sure you want to stay here? Put up with me?”  
  


Peter laughs, “For now.” he pats Tony on the back a few times and pulls out of the hug, “At least until I find my own place. Something rad... with big windows, cool gaming systems... close to the best pizza and sandwich places.”  
  


“Oh yeah? And who's paying for that, Mr. Parker?” he asks teasingly, giving the kid a good-natured shove.  
  


The teen shoves back, ducking and weaving as they push and nudge, “There's this old guy who is kind of a big softie. He's got lots of money and likes to throw it around on aspiring young heroes.”  
  


“Aspiring young _mouthy_ heroes.” Tony corrects, grabbing Peter into a headlock.  
  


Peter protests and fights back as they tousle for a few minutes before sagging into another hug. With a rumble from the kid's stomach, the two dip out of the tower for a little late-night pizza run into the city.

 

Tony realizes he hasn't felt this happy in months.

 

 

 

 

 

**Two Years Later**

 

 

Peter comes barrelling out of the elevator, and tosses his bookbag aside to head directly for the common room. Tony was already in there, working on his tablet – while Bucky, Steve and Clint were immersed in a rowdy game of Mario Kart.  
  


“The reigning champ has returned home!” Peter grinned, flopping down on the sofa near Tony, “Can I get in the next round?”  
  


Clint scoffed, “Sure. You can take your dad's place... he rage-quit after losing four times in a row.”  
  


Tony froze a bit at the casual use of the word 'dad' ... since he and Pete were close, but he'd never dream of telling the kid to call him that. It was a sensitive subject, he was sure. They had breached that point a few years ago, before “The Incident” as Tony took to calling it, when their relationship had suffered. Bygones were bygones, and Tony knew all had been forgiven.  
  


But still. Since Peter was- “You rage quit?” Peter asked, interrupting Tony's swirl of concerns, “That sucks for you. Want me to defend your honour?”  
  


“Yeah. Defend away.” he shrugged, smirking as Peter bounced off the sofa and plopped himself down beside the Winter Solider.  
  


Something warm settled in his chest as he watched Peter joke and fool around with the other team members. Maybe Peter thought of him as a father-figure again? He like the idea. He'd definitely called Peter 'my kid' more times than he could count. He had managed to stop himself from ever saying the word 'son' because he'd been worried it would upset him after everything that had happened. But Peter had bounced back in the way only a teenager could. He hadn't even blinked.  
  


Instead, he visited Aunt May frequently for dinner and lunches – and would spend whatever time he could with Tony. He completed his GED and (with Tony's very enthusiastic endorsements) had universities from all over knocking down his door to snag him. Peter was humble about it, but he'd been quick to assure the kid that even _without_ him being in his corner, Peter would have been prime poaching material, what with his grades and shy charm.  
  


“--could be just a weird coincidence.” Steve said with a small shrug, eyes still glued to the screen, “I wouldn't worry about it.”  
  


Peter huffed, “Yeah but _still_! It just sucks. Every time I think I've found a place, it's gone before I can even get my application filled out.”  
  


“Wait, what's this?” Tony interjected with a frown. “Application for what?”  
  


Bucky smirked, “Pete was just saying how every time he finds an apartment he likes – it's off the market before he can put his name up.”  
  


Tony hummed, and caught Clint and Steve both giving him knowing looks. “Isn't that strange, Stark? Reeeeeal spooky coincidence.” Clint goaded.  
  


The three laughed, which had Peter looking between them all with an adorable pout, “What's happening? Why are you guys laughing?”  
  


“Nothing. They're just trying to _distract_ you because they know you're going to whoop their butts this next round.” Tony said quickly, waving his free hand toward the massive television.  
  


Peter didn't seem entirely convinced, but was suitably distracted again when Steve 'blue-shelled' him. Then the kid launched into a rant on how the 'physical representation of all that was good-and-just in America' could treat a poor kid like that – blue shelling him when he was vulnerable. Cap had just laughed it off and the rambunctious game continued until Nat joined them.  
  


The five men turned abruptly at the sound of her stumbling. Each wilted under her glare – she had clearly tripped over Peter's knapsack, and was now holding it up with a quirked brow.  
  


“Kid, go put your shit away before the Widow bites you.” Tony warned.  
  


Peter scrambled up, bumbling apologies as he scurried over and retrieved his bag before disappearing.  
  


“There's no way you _actually_ tripped on that bag.” Bucky protested, “You wanted the kid out of the room.”  
  


Natasha smirked a bit, “Brains and looks. You're a keeper, Barnes. I'm amazed you're still single.” she teased. The soldier muttered a few curses, looking back to the screen with a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “I just want to know why Stark is interfering with the kid's apartment search.” She continued, looking pointedly back at the billionaire.  
  


“Prove it.” Tony fired back petulantly.  
  


Steve turned, “Well it's kind of obvious. The last _five_ apartments that Peter have found were snatched up suspiciously quickly.”  
  


“This is New York. What are you gonna do?” Tony brushed them off, tossing his Starkpad aside. “I resent these accusations.”  
  


Natasha perched on the arm of the sofa, “We're sympathetic, you know. We get it. You don't want Peter to move out. You're incredibly transparent.”  
  


“It's not that,” Tony rolled his eyes, “He just- ... look he deserves the best. And those apartments were all garbage.”  
  


“They weren't garbage. I went with him to one. It was perfectly fine.” She argues gently.  
  


Tony huffs, “No. Not good enough.”

  
“He's going to have to leave the nest eventually. Shit, he's almost nineteen now,” Clint laughs, “Time to cut him loose on the world. Let him find a nice girl, throw some parties, get into trouble.”

  
Steve pauses the game, much to the protest of his fellow gamers.

  
“What's really going on, Tony?” he asked, concern evident behind his smile, “You wouldn't be stopping Pete if you didn't have a good reason. Heck, I figured you'd be going with him to shop around for a place.”

  
The genius frowned for a moment, before flopping back into the sofa dramatically, “Well maybe I already bought him a place.”

  
“You did?!” Bucky gaped, shaking his head, “So _give_ it to him already. Jesus.”

  
Tony glared at him, “It's actually going to be a 'congrats on starting university' present, tin-man.” he snarked, crossing his arms across his chest, “So zip your lips. I don't want any of you ruining the surprise.”

  
The whole team made a show of zipping their lips, which Tony was about to call them on, when Peter came jogging back into the room. “What did I miss?”

 

“Nothing.” Everyone answered in unison.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to come, and then that's all she wrote! Hope you have enjoyed! <3 Thank you for the lovely comments.

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't get this out of my head. Liberties taken are mine... tweaked the Marvel world a bit to work with my story and the setting. Just had the urge to write something a bit angsty and add a contribution to the Dad!Tony vibes that came with SMHC film. I will edit/proof this fic as I go along, so please forgive/ignore any small errors.


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